Basilisk Hunting
by NortheasternWind
Summary: She's the leader of an ancient vanguard of warrior angels. He's the youngest of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Together they do busywork, and regret their lives and decisions.


The Hellguard had only brought so much with them to the Endwar; their supplies had run out long ago after things had gone awry, leaving them stranded on Earth with no way home and no guarantee they'd be welcome even if they could return. Separated from their angelic remedies, they were forced to rely on local resources instead.

This should have been cause for alarm, but rather to Uriel's relief—and exasperation—basilisks had taken up residence in the Ashlands, burrowing into the dust of humanity. Properly prepared, their scales would heal almost any ailment, even for one on the edge of death.

The only problem was… obtaining them.

Uriel barely had to think to avoid the petrifying beams and gaze of the beast, but apparently her subordinates could not say the same: despite the advantage of flight, each of the troops she'd brought with her fell one by one, turning into stone and shattering on impact below. Before long she was alone, comforted only by the labored breaths of the basilisk below. It was not long for this world.

She dodged another beam and dived, determined to end the fight before the Hellguard was left leaderless again. The basilisk snapped at her, and Uriel plunged her blade into its gaping jaw.

That was enough. Its strength spent, the creature screeched, falling to its side and twitching in its death throes. Uriel landed next to it with a grimace.

Too much loss for too little gain. It was far too dangerous for her to fight a basilisk alone; their first quarry would be their last this time, and she was unsure if it would be wise to risk another hunt in the future.

Uriel set herself to her work, gouging the basilisk's eyes out and scraping the scales off to collect them. Something seemed to make them stick better than on other reptiles, and in the past Uriel had resorted to prying them off with the blade of her sword. Sometimes that damaged them, which wasn't a problem if they could only hunt more…

The Hellguard would not last much longer, Uriel knew. More fell every day, and with each death there were fewer to take on the simplest duties that kept them alive: hunting, scavenging, scouting. A hundred years they had held out, but no longer, she sensed: soon the demons would truly rule this world, with none left to oppose them.

The mortals would have thought it a great story, of honorable warriors fighting to the last man. In Heaven, she knew it would only serve as a cautionary tale against turning away from one's duty.

She… did not terribly mind, she found. She had known she may not return, when she followed Abaddon here.

She had barely scraped and sloughed her way down past the head before someone else took notice. She heard it on the wind: the beating of hooves on the ash, getting closer and closer. Too heavy for the Knights of Perdition.

She considered for a moment, but decided to ignore it as she worked. She had nothing to fear—or hide—from him.

Uriel felt his approach more than she heard it: he (and his steed, though with open flame springing from its step that was less of a mystery) seemed to emanate an otherworldly heat, though less so than when she'd first found him after his return. He drew his horse to a halt some distance behind her, no doubt surveying the scene; with the stone pieces of her comrades littering the battlefield around them, it would not be terribly difficult to deduce what had happened.

"My brothers and I often remarked that flight would make basilisk hunting much easier," he said.

"It did, before the Endwar. But I suppose they adapted after all this time." Uriel yanked out a scale, then scowled: she had damaged it. "We have been at them for quite a while, now."

"I thought this one looked bigger than usual. You hunted the smaller ones to extinction?"

"We did."

War couldn't quite hide his amusement, but Uriel appreciated the effort. The sheer novelty of seeing him smile almost made up for it.

"I hope this is not your first quarry, or you will be returning with little to justify your expense."

The scale under Uriel's hand cracked, and she huffed at it in irritation. "Your hopes are unanswered."

"Then you had better be more careful with what you do have, Uriel."

"I know that!" But her hands paused. Yes, he was right… She needed to be more patient. Haste and anger would only win her less than what little she already had. She slid her knife under a scale, and with more care than previously worked it back and forth to loosen it.

Behind her War sighed, and Ruin nickered in resignation. "Give me one, and I will help you. Watching you almost makes me ashamed on your behalf."

"That is no way to offer help. But I accept," Uriel said, before he could react. "I would rather not stay so long as to concern the others. You may keep a scale in return."

War pursed his lips, but said nothing, and dismounted to get started on the other side of the beast.

No doubt more experienced than Uriel (and stronger, and armed with an impressive gauntlet) War was able to work much faster, and after some time of significantly more progress he changed his mind and returned to her side to help.

Angels, Uriel then realized, unconsciously spread themselves out to account for their wings; War had none and so placed himself uncomfortably close as they worked. The unnatural heat of him made her wings shrink away and put her instincts on edge, but she was done with doubting him, and willed her body not to expect an attack.

"You know," she said, "I do wonder how one goes about fighting a basilisk with only two dimensions to maneuver in."

"Your kind fall out of the sky and break against the ground if petrified, but for us not every mistake is fatal. We can be revived: with Death and Fury easily able to avoid being hit, I can focus on my offensive without needing to worry. It is, like all battles, an exercise in risk management." War pulled out a scale with an ease that was entirely unfair. "We never attempt it if we are any fewer than four, so as you can imagine it doesn't happen often."

There was a strange note in his voice that took Uriel a moment to identify, but once she did she froze in surprise.

"You're disappointed. You enjoy fighting basilisks!"

"I seem to be the only one," War grumbled.

Uriel saw in her mind a trio of Horsemen resolutely denying their youngest brother assistance, and shook her head incredulously. "You are truly bizarre, Horseman. I never met anyone so excited to be petrified."

"I'm still here, aren't I?" War argued, in a voice that suggested he had made this point many times before. "It is… uncomfortable, but not unbearable, if there is someone to revive you."

"I wouldn't have expected you to rely on another in battle."

Something in War's expression shifted. "Is it truly so strange to imagine that I trust my brothers?"

Uriel frowned, returning to her work as she thought. The Four Horsemen were a brotherhood. She had watched with her own eyes as one jumped to the defense of another. But, remembering all that had happened… yes, the thought of War truly placing his trust in another was strange indeed.

"Perhaps the Endwar has changed us," War conceded, echoing her thoughts.

Uriel shook her head. "It has changed you. Betrayal and indignity have made you harder, angrier. But we of the First Kingdom are slow to change."

"Are you sure?" Uriel did not have to look up to know that War was looking at her. "You swore a Death Oath on Abaddon's behalf."

"An honor he did not deserve." Uriel barked out a laugh that sounded insincere, even to her. "I would have done it a hundred years ago all the same, had you lived."

War looked doubtful, but seemed to sense he was on dangerous ground, and to Uriel's relief he moved on. "You also broke the Seventh Seal."

"I fixed a problem that I helped create."

"But why? You did not merely save my life: you broke the seal on my power, sentenced my enemies to death." War had entirely abandoned his task, idly watching her instead. "Including the voice of the Charred Council."

War's point finally hit her, and Uriel froze with a growing sense of horror. War's torment, and what would have been his death, were mandates from the Charred Council. Uriel had put an end to it and assisted in the murder of the Watcher. She had broken the Law.

She, after watching with a cold heart as Abaddon was slain for his crimes, had broken the Law.

What was she thinking?

"I…" Her mind went blank the moment she opened her mouth. Even knowing she had been wrong, she could not bring herself to regret it. "It seemed like the obvious thing to do at the time."

"Angels are creatures of thought more than emotion," War said. "Azrael told me that long ago. But it did not even occur to you that the Watcher's word was law. You did what you felt was right, without regard for the law or your duty, where a hundred years ago even the knowledge of my innocence could not have convinced you to lift a finger.

"A century of battle without rest has left you longing for justice, and you have chased it with reckless abandon. Just as I have allowed rage to guide my choices."

The ash carried by the wind bit at Uriel's face. War had thought about this more than she had: the law and her respect for it were carved into her bones, and it had never seemed to her that her actions were motivated by anything other than duty.

…The rest of the Hellguard seemed to approve of her choices. Perhaps they were changed as well.

Uriel's fist clenched at her side. Even if they could return to Heaven with their heads held high, they would never quite belong again.

"I can't imagine you've done anything you regret," she said, shifting attention from herself. "Your enemies have thus far been demons, and those who attacked you without just cause."

War reached out and carelessly yanked a scale off, scowling. "Abaddon had imprisoned Samael and sealed away his power. I had not known at first that I was freeing him, but… even when I did, it had seemed inconsequential next to my anger. He offered me vengeance, and in exchange I unleashed a much greater threat than the one I destroyed."

Uriel had not even known of Samael's fate, and couldn't muster the will to scold the Horseman. But before she could interject he went on:

"Even now, I…"

Uriel frowned. "Do your brothers not share your indignation?"

War abruptly crushed the scale in his hand, causing Uriel to step back in alarm.

"Death has not awoken," he said hollowly. "My siblings found him unconscious in the crater where he landed. Something happened to him before the breaking of the seal, and the return of his full power has not fixed it. Dust is missing altogether. I came here searching for Azrael, in the hope that he could explain our brother's ailment."

Uriel's mouth fell open, and she forgot the rest of their conversation entirely. "Azrael is here? …No, nevermind that. Why are you here? You should be searching! Unless… a basilisk scale…?"

"I thought it better than nothing." War opened his fist, allowing the pieces of the scale to drop from his hand. "But even now, my concern is… overpowered by my impatience. Disappointment. My own brother… I thought I had overcome this at Eden."

Uriel searched her mind—he did say he'd been to see the Tree. He would have passed a test to approach it… "You overcame enough of it to gain entrance. You improved, and the Tree saw something in you worth helping. No one is perfect.

"And besides, you are not alone anymore." Uriel stooped to collect a scale from the pile she had amassed, and thrust it toward the Horseman. "Here! Take it and go. If I don't finish soon the Hellguard will search for me, and you have better things to be doing."

War stared, his mouth actually falling open for a moment, but a snort from Ruin behind them brought him back to reality. He cleared his expression, snatched the scale out of Uriel's hand and turned on his heel, marching back toward his steed without so much as a glance behind him.

"I hope your brother recovers," Uriel said sincerely.

He paused with his foot in the stirrup and after a moment, turned almost enough to look at her. "…And I hope you live to see the end of this."

War pulled himself into Ruin's saddle, lingering. He met Uriel's gaze passively, silently, and she thought he might say something more—but he kicked his horse into a gallop, and that was that.


End file.
